Home At Last

Home at last.
For the 30 lemons, The thrill of the forbidden.


With thanks to Race Ulfson for betaing.
Disclaimer: the characters, people and places contained herein do not belong to me and I am making no money from this.
NC17


When he stumbled into a bar in Fisherman’s Horizon somewhere around midnight, the last person he expected to, quite literally, bump into was Seifer Almasy.

It had been some eight years since he had last seen Seifer, the tall blond disappearing onto a train in the station in Balamb like a ghost or some faded movie star, looking a little thinner than he had before the war, a little older and wiser too, and he’d almost believed that Seifer had perished somewhere along the way.

Eight years. Eight long years that had done absolutely nothing to silence his gnawing guilt over the war.

When Seifer gazed down at him with jade green eyes, glittering in the soft lighting of the inn’s main bar, he almost felt like a teenager again. Too many old wounds that ached in the cold and never seemed to feel quite right prevented that particular scenario from being completed in his mind’s eye at least.

“Leonhart…,” Seifer half purred in surprise, and with that single word evoked a plethora of memories that not even a hundred guardian forces would have prevented from assaulting him. How many times had he heard that name from those lips in pleasure and anger and...

And if he didn’t sit down, he was going to collapse.

Nodding his own greeting, Squall turned away from Seifer and found a chair at a table against the wall, away from prying eyes and curious ears. He had no doubt in his mind that the older man would join him, as sure of that as the weapon junctioned at his hip and the rings on his fingers. Seifer Almasy was drawn to him like a moth to a flame, something in their training or their childhoods that had bound them together as indelibly as the ink that sprawled over Zell’s cheek.

He wasn’t disappointed.

Seifer strolled to the table, his long legged gait easy and unhurried as he made his way through the busy bar as though he owned it, only pausing long enough for Squall to kick the other chair to the small table out far enough to sit down. At least he waited for permission for once.

He smiled as he sat, setting two bottles of a Galbadian beer on the table between them. Squall didn’t want him to smile. If he smiled, it meant he was in control. And that felt dangerous, even after so long.

“Well, Leonhart, I wish I could say it was a pleasure but you look like shit,” the blond man smirked that old, arrogant smirk and took a swig from one of the bottles. “What’s wrong? And what’s a nice guy like you doing in a place like this?”

Squall shrugged, easily slipping into the old mask of indifference, setting up the walls of ice around him as though they’d never been gone. He could tell from the shifting of Seifer’s gaze that the blond had recognised the signs and half believed that his old rival saw it as a challenge. “I’ve been travelling all day. I’m tired, and I figured this was as good a place as any to rest.”

“So who are you running from?”

Squall lifted his head, no surprise showing in his features or his eyes even though he had felt it at the question. “I’m not running from anyone. Who are you hiding from?”

Leaning forward on his elbows, Seifer shrugged and tossed his hair out of his eyes. It was longer now, with bangs as long as Squall’s had been in the war and Squall found himself wanting to touch the soft blond locks. Eight years and he was still as attracted to Seifer. He almost frowned in disgust at himself, catching the expression just as his lips started to curl. He didn’t want Seifer to see how he was affected, that would be dangerous.

“Who says I’m hiding? I’ve been right here all this time, squirt. Nothing to hide from. You’re the one who’s out of place,” the elder man pushed the dark glass bottle closer to him, encouraging him to drink silently. “Why’re you so far from home, Squall?”

Home. The very word sent a shiver of revulsion and distaste down his spine that he couldn’t hide and couldn’t prevent. Home was where his wife was. Home was where he was expected to be a hero day after day, year after year. Home was a place where the Lion of Balamb lived, not where Squall Leonhart lived. “Don’t call me that. I wanted to take a few days off, rest a little,” he shrugged and drank deeply from the bottle.

“Rinny’s pissing you off that much, huh?” Seifer reached over the table between them and touched his fingers lightly to Squall’s wedding ring, watching him intently.

Somehow, Seifer had always been able to do that. Look at him and figure out precisely what he was so wound up over, even if he hadn’t been able to pull a reaction from Squall about it. The first time he’d been too scared to sleep alone, the first time he’d been forced to kill someone, the first time he’d ever wanted someone physically…

And yet, it was so hard to admit. He didn’t want to acknowledge his own weakness. “Whatever,” he murmured and shrugged as nonchalantly as he could.

Seifer looked at him seriously for a moment, his eyes intent and almost menacing. “Yeah, whatever. You want a room for the night, squirt?”

Squall found himself nodding, the thought of a good night’s sleep too tempting to pass up. There had been a time when he’d gone days without rest, his body urged on by potions and spells until he’d almost burnt out… but that time felt so long ago and he felt so different and worn out, so broken he almost believed it had been another person.

“Alright. Finish your beer and I’ll get you a key.”

“You… work here?” Squall asked softly as Seifer rose to his feet.

He paused, looking back at Squall and nodding just once. “Been here since I left Balamb. They like me here.”

Though it had not been said with any malice, Squall flinched as though he had been struck. As he watched Seifer disappear into the crowd of patrons, he murmured “someone liked you in Balamb too.”


********


By the time Squall awoke, it was after lunch. The sun streamed through a hazy sky to cast shifting light into the room, giving it a lazy, sleepy feel.

He was sure there had been other times in his life when he had been in bed after the clock had struck midday but at that moment, he couldn’t place any, and neither did he want to, his mind still clouded with sleep and contentment. A night without Rinoa or a little emergency to interrupt his dreams had been the very thing he’d needed.

Slowly, he began to realise he wasn’t alone, even though he hadn’t lifted his head or turned around to search for the presence he felt in the room. The manifestation was an old, familiar one with a bad habit of sneaking into his room while he was asleep, although usually it had snuck into the sheets as well.

“Isn’t it rude to watch your guests sleeping?” he asked, finally, rolling onto his back and lifting his head to look at Seifer. The blond was leaning against the door, arms folded across a broad chest that was clothed in a simple white shirt, stretching over biceps as he shifted slowly.

A small smile cocked Seifer’s lips and he shrugged. “Couldn’t resist, Leonhart. Been a while since I saw you, I kinda thought I was dreaming you up.”

“Sure it’d be a dream and not a nightmare?” Squall murmured softly, sitting up and dragging a hand through his shoulder length nutmeg locks. The fine strands fell back into his eyes almost instantly, annoyingly.

“Guess that’s up to you.”

“Maybe it’s a little of both,” he murmured, reaching for the pants he’d tossed carelessly beside the bed shortly before collapsing into the sheets. He stood, unafraid to allow Seifer to see him naked, after all they’d grown up together, showered together, slept together. One more time would be nothing compared to the hundreds it had already happened since they had been children. “I know how I feel about it, what about you?”

Seifer wondered just what Squall was hiding behind those dark eyes and watched him slide into the jeans slowly, without a care in the world or a thought to his nakedness. His eyes flickered to a small black mark on Squall’s pale shoulder and he felt a smile curl his lips. “Guess I can live with seeing you for a few days if you can live with me teasing you about that mark on your back.”

Glancing up, Squall peered over his shoulder. “Oh, that,” he murmured, shrugging and sitting once more to pull his boots on. “Whatever. I just wanted to get something personal.”

That was a small tattoo. A little black mark, no bigger than an inch and a half in diameter. Seifer was sure he recognised the character; the swirling lines had been engraved on the junction points for Shiva. It was the Centran word for Ice.

Kneeling on the bed, Seifer trailed the swirling ink with his fingertip gently. “So, Ice huh? Wishful thinking there Leonhart, you were never as cold as you wanted to be.”

Again, Squall shrugged. “Whatever, Seifer. Shouldn’t you be working?”

“Break. Like those things you never took, remember?”

The touch of Seifer’s finger to his bare skin had evoked a shiver of pleasure within him that he hadn’t known for quite some time. The electric heat of Seifer’s skin on his own, even after all this time was something his wife had never been able to match. Even now as the finger lingered over the final sweeping curve of the character, he shuddered and tried to shrug the touch off. “Do you mind?”

Seifer laughed, his voice deep and throaty. “Not at all Squally boy, and I don’t think you did either.”

No, he hadn’t. In fact he’d not minded so much he’d wanted him to continue. “Whatever. Get out of here, and leave me alone.”

Seifer shrugged easily, his eyes strafing Squall’s figure one last time before the brunet slid into his shirt and he backed away slowly. The way the younger man looked at him as he pulled back told Seifer everything he needed to know. “You… feel up to updating me on the others later? I need to get back to work…” he added, a feeble excuse really.

Blue grey eyes, pools of colour deep and cold enough to capture a soul met Seifer’s gaze. He saw the faintest flicker of longing in those eyes, and it was all Seifer could do to prevent the smirk reaching his lips.

“Sure. Whatever.”

“When you order dinner, I’ll bring it up. I should be off by then… See you later, Leonhart.”

As the elder man slipped away, Squall wondered just what he was letting himself in for by agreeing… and whether he even cared.


********


Seifer turned up a little after seven thirty. He’d changed clothes, wearing a loose, deep, deep emerald green shirt that made his eyes seem all the more vibrant, all the brighter. The collar was wide open and showing off the old silver choker he’d always worn. The shirt almost seemed as black as the soft pants he wore, only the light catching the material giving away the real colour as he slipped into the room holding a tray.

He didn’t give Squall a second glance as he headed for a small table in the corner of the room, didn’t notice the little longing look that Squall gave him as he strolled past in his old controlled and self assured fashion.

When he’d set the tray down, he turned to look at Squall, picking up a bottle of wine from the tray. “So…” he began, uncorking the drink and watching Squall as he poured a glass. “What have I missed in the last eight years?”

Squall leant against the door, folding his arms over his chest and watching as the elder man sat, sipping gracefully from the glass. “Too much. Why did you never come back?”

Seifer shrugged, pushing the second chair out with his foot and motioning for Squall to join him. “I’ve been busy. Besides, you guys never wanted me there. So there didn’t seem much point in bothering.”

“Someone wanted you there,” Squall murmured under his breath too softly for Seifer to hear as he crossed the floor to Seifer. His bare feet made soft sounds on the thick carpet, and as he slid into the free seat, he levelled a glare at the blond. “Quistis and Irvine have a daughter. Selphie is headmistress of Trabia. Zell’s got more tattoos than a hundred bikers.”

“And you got married to Rinoa. Poor fuck,” he pushed a glass closer to Squall and poured the garnet red liquid into the crystal. As dark as blood, it had seemed the most appropriate drink for them. They had no time to shed blood, so the wine would have to suffice.

“Am I the poor fuck or is she?”

“Her, of course, I remember you being a great fuck.”

Pale, slender fingers wrapped around the glass and he held it up briefly, dark eyes studying the liquid as thoroughly and carefully as he would an enemy. His gaze turned to Seifer and he smiled, briefly, faintly and nodded his head in a silent toast before drinking the liquid. “Whatever,” he murmured, setting the glass down.

Dinner was steak, blood rare and nestled on a bed of vegetables. Simple food, for neither of them enjoyed the pretentious, over blown fussy foods that some preferred. They ate in silence at first, Seifer watching Squall intently, as though transfixed by the way his throat moved each time he swallowed.

“So is that all the detail I get?” He asked finally as he poured a second glass for them both, topping Squall’s up as soon as the brunet had taken a drink from the vessel.

“Niamh turns two in a few weeks. She looks just like her mother and acts like her father, none of the garden will be safe from her,” Squall shrugged faintly, remembering his wife’s reaction to the news that Quistis was pregnant, the insane jealousy and the demands she’d made of him. Of course he’d ignored her requests that he force Quistis into returning to work too quickly, and the other inane commands she’d given.

“Bet Rin really loves her,” Seifer said dryly, sitting back to drink from his own glass. “What about you, Squall? Heard about your father finding you…”

Squall finished the glass and rose to his feet, heading to the bed and stretching out upon it. Crossing his denim clad legs at his ankles, he settled against the pillows, watching Seifer through half lidded eyes. The faintest flush had bled into his pale cheeks, making him look a little healthier, and giving away the fact he was already feeling the effects of the strong, heady wine. “I’m fine.”

“Right, whatever,” Seifer followed, pausing long enough only to gather the glasses again and find a second bottle of wine from the fridge, pouring them each another large glass as he settled on the bed beside the brunet.

“I mean it.”

“If you were fine you’d be back in Balamb being a good little commander and husband,” the blond rolled his eyes as he nudged Squall into drinking. He could see the pain in Squall’s eyes as he spoke; see the reluctance and the exhaustion that seemed to plague him always. Even as a child he’d been too serious, too intense and it was going to kill him. Seifer knew that as well as he knew the gunblade that he loved more than his own life.

The brunet waved his hand dismissively, his movements were beginning to falter, the wine already starting to take its toll on Squall and make him clumsy. “I just wanted to rest. That’s all,” he said determinedly. He sighed and set the glass down on the bedside table, stretching and watching Seifer with heavy lidded eyes. Squall still loved to watch Seifer’s profile as he lazed on the bed, even though it felt like a life time since he’d seen the handsome lines of his once lover’s face.

“Why’d you marry her?” Seifer asked, looking down at Squall. “You don’t love her, do you?”

“…Not any more,” Squall admitted at last, closing his eyes. Rinoa had been something that he thought he was supposed to do, and love, but he was starting to worry, starting to feel a little dead inside. Even though he’d tried to love her it had waned after the initial few months instead of growing as he’d hoped and he dreaded being near her , or with her.

Seifer’s fingers brushed Squall’s hair back from his forehead gently, trailing along the puckered skin of the old scar. “You did it out of duty, hm? Because you’re her knight?” Seifer sounded almost disgusted. Squall caught Seifer’s wrist, his eyes fluttering a little but remaining closed.

“Seifer, don’t touch me. It’s hard enough as it is.”

Seifer paused, and scowled. “Can’t stand to have someone like me touch you now Leonhart? I was good enough for you once.”

The brunet’s thumb traced lightly over the pulse that throbbed in Seifer’s wrist and Squall finally released him, shaking his head and opening his eyes to watch Seifer once more. “It’s not that. I can’t stand to have you touch me like that when it makes me want you so much…,” Squall’s voice trailed off and he turned his head away. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

That was the kind of sign he had been waiting for the entire evening. Seifer lifted Squall’s left hand, his thumb brushing the cool gold band that curled around his ring finger. A warning that he was indeed taken and off limits.

One that he completely ignored.

Carefully, with strong fingers, he eased the small piece of jewellery up and off Squall’s finger, the pale flesh left only a little reddened where it had been, and set it on the table beside the bed. The flush to the skin soon departed and he could see no sign it had ever been there, alabaster flesh retaining no reminder that the jewellery that was so significant to the brunet had graced his finger.

It looked so small and harmless there on the table, as empty as the promise that had bound it to Squall’s finger.

If Squall had been his, if the ring had been his to gift, it would have been platinum. Squall deserved no less than the very best.

“What are you doing?” the brunet asked softly, his cheeks faintly flushed from the wine they’d shared.

“Whatever I want to,” Seifer whispered, cupping his old rival’s cheek, turning his head back to face him and kissing him slowly. “Whatever you want me to.”

Squall paused, his mouth slack even as Seifer’s lips worried at the corner of his mouth. His eyes flickered to the wedding ring on the table, remembering that even if he didn’t love Rinoa, she was still his wife. He had made vows; he had sworn to remain faithful. So why did he find himself kissing back? Why did he find himself enjoying it more than any of the kisses he’d shared with Rinoa over the previous eight years?

“When you walked in, I thought I was seeing things,” Seifer murmured against Squall’s lips. He didn’t dare do more than kiss or touch yet, he had to wait for some sign that Squall was going to concede defeat this time, had to make sure that his former lover was willing to give up and give in despite the weight of everything that should have forbidden him to.

“Seifer. I’m married,” the younger man whispered softly. And yet, his hand was rising to cup Seifer’s rough cheek, threading into his hair of it’s own accord. He couldn’t stop himself from touching Seifer any more than he could stop the tides. Squall found himself turning, nuzzling against his former lover’s mouth gently.

“You don’t love her, you just told me that,” Seifer’s voice was muffled as he pressed a kiss to Squall’s cheek. “And you want this as much as I do. Just… forget her for a night.”

Could he forget the one who was supposed to be the love of his life so easily? Even if it was only for a night? The answer, as Squall turned his head and kissed Seifer hard, lapping at his lips with a fervour he hadn’t felt in so long it almost seemed like a dream, was an unequivocal and resounding yes.

Squall pulled Seifer down to cover him, kissing him as though they were the real couple and Rinoa was just a bad dream. It was as though the walls holding back all that energy and lust had suddenly been knocked down and he lost himself to the need for more, for the heat of another’s skin and the release of sexual energy he’d been denying himself for years.

“Gods, Squall, slow down a sec.”

“Hyne, don’t make me stop. Please,” Squall gasped against Seifer’s lips.

“Not gonna make you stop squirt, just slow down okay? We’ve got all night,” Seifer chuckled softly, tugging Squall’s shirt up to find and tease one of his nipples gently. The flesh hardened quickly beneath his gentle fingertips and Squall whimpered, kissing him again.

Unfastening Seifer’s shirt with deft fingers, Squall slid his fingers over Seifer’s chest. He was almost mindless with his need, pushing at Seifer’s shirt with desperate movements, crushing his lips to Seifer’s over and over in bruisingly hard kisses. His soft whimpers turned to moans as Seifer’s fingers slid down over the smooth plain of Squall’s belly, traced the angle of his hips to the low rise of his leather pants. “You really want this don’t you?” Seifer asked, his voice soft.

“I want you,” Squall arched against Seifer’s hand, a soft sound escaping him as Seifer’s fingers unfastened and tugged those leather pants down, exposing the hard arc of his sex to Seifer’s attentions.

When Squall’s hard, already leaking sex brushed against his belly – streaking his skin with fluid – Seifer knew he had no chance of taking it as slow as he had first wanted to. However, they did have all night, just as he’d said.

He made short work of Squall’s pants, peeling the tight black leather back to reveal pale skin and perfect lines. Now, at twenty five, Squall had grown up. All muscle, the hints of which he’d seen that final morning before the war when the young man had still been a teenager, still growing out of the last of his baby fat, becoming this vision of perfection, of fine, pale skin. He practically tore Squall out of his shirt in his eagerness.

Squall pulled Seifer down against him even as the older man was still shrugging out of his pants, sealing their mouths together in a hot kiss. He was so lost in the touch of their tongues and lips that he barely recognised the brush of fingers along the cleft of his ass, slick with lubricant from a tube Seifer had secreted in his pocket. Seifer had hoped it would happen, or perhaps even had known that it would. They seemed doomed to fight or fuck whenever they were left with only each other for company.

Then the first finger began to push inside him, making his breath catch and his hips buck a little.

He couldn’t say whether it was the wine or the touch that made his head spin so swiftly that he had to cling to Seifer. Squall felt as though he were falling, the room swaying in his view, and he buried his nose in Seifer’s hair just beneath his ear, whispering “hold me,” his voice no more than a murmur, a heart felt plea for something he needed more than sex, more than the release he’d been waiting for, for so long.

Seifer’s free arm slid beneath him, wrapping around his waist and cradling Squall’s lean body against his own as he rocked the finger into his body. Squall whimpered when the second finger pushed into him, the dizzying pleasure already threading through his veins, hot and vibrant and so very Seifer that Squall could only dare dream of experiencing it when he was with the arrogant blond.

That old, familiar sensation of pain and pleasure in unison overwhelmed Squall when Seifer first pushed into him. He cried aloud as the thick length of Seifer’s cock penetrated him, the slick heat taking his breath away beyond anything more than that wordless exclamation from his reach.

He could feel Seifer’s hot breath against his ear more than he could hear his rushed, heavy breathing. Everything besides that sensation of being filled again, after so long was a barely present dream – Seifer’s voice, his touch, his taste all paled briefly at that intense lust and pleasure. Of course, it was only for a moment. Then having Seifer over him, with him, inside him felt just as intense as that first moment of pleasure and he was moaning the older man’s name.

Seifer paused for only one moment, one brief second to kiss away the moan, to silence that soft purr that could so easily turn into a confession. He was afraid of hearing anything more than a plea for more from Squall – he didn’t think he could take it, even if it was something he wanted so very much.

Cradling Squall’s body against his own, Seifer began to thrust into him, hard and deep. Every thrust seemed to tear into him, the pleasure and longing almost enough to drive him mad with need. In a half whispered gasp, Squall pleaded softly over and over “Please, please, Seifer…”

“Shh, baby,” Seifer whispered, sliding his hands over the curve of Squall’s ass to lift him square into his lap. He slid deeper and deeper into his lover’s body with each thrust, almost punishingly hard. He lost himself in kissing the younger man, incredible kisses that felt like ice and fire on his lips.

Squall arched and bucked against Seifer, his fingers grasping at Seifer’s back. He dragged his nails down the tan of his lover’s skin, sliding strong fingertips over the flesh of Seifer’s ass as though he could somehow force the blond to slide deeper into his body even though he knew it were impossible, he could feel Seifer’s hips against his every time that the blond thrust deep into him.

Seifer didn’t even have to touch Squall to make him come. When Squall almost screamed, his voice breathless and husky as his body tightened around Seifer’s cock, Seifer cried out with him, spilling deep inside his lover’s body.

When he’d caught his breath, he slid out of Squall slowly and slumped beside him, watching the younger man shudder. His grey eyes were still closed tight, his cheeks flushed and his lips parted. He could practically see the wheels turning inside Squall’s head, the thoughts and guilt already beginning to steal into his veins like a poison.

“Don’t, Squall,” Seifer whispered against his temple, nosing aside the soft locks of Squall’s nutmeg hair and kissing the soft skin he revealed.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t…. don’t think about it. Don’t close up you idiot. Hell I don’t even know, just don’t,” he pleaded.

Squall looked at Seifer for a moment, a faint smile curling his lips briefly before he shook his head. “I’m not thinking of anything,” he lied. They both knew it was a lie, the words hanging ominously as Squall rolled onto his side away from Seifer, curling into a ball even as the older man pulled the covers over him.

Seifer wanted to be angry with Squall so very much. But he was old enough and mature enough to know that it would do no good and while the last time he’d been with Squall he would no doubt have challenged Squall and pushed him to react, he realised now that it was futile. In fact, it would probably do more harm than good.

Instead of reacting, of yelling or expressing his disappointment or anger, Seifer pressed against Squall’s back. He kissed the base of Squall’s neck and closed his eyes, unable to hold back a sigh.

“You’re staying?” Squall asked softly, when Seifer was already close to dozing off.

“Mm, sorry, Leonhart. Even your cold ass is better than nothing, and I’m warm so I’m not moving,” the older man smirked, sliding a hand over Squall’s stomach. He wouldn’t let Squall shy away from him, he couldn’t.

He could practically feel Squall’s brain ticking over as he considered that and there was nothing more he could do but wait, and wait.

Finally, Squall stretched and turned to face Seifer, burrowing against him. He closed his eyes, splaying his fingers over Seifer’s chest above his heart beat. He didn’t dare look at the ring that lay so close, he was too afraid it would remind him of the wife he had left back in Balamb.

Slowly, he lifted his head to look at Seifer, the jade green eyes glittering alluringly in the light. “At least,” he offered tentatively, tracing his fingers over the dark flesh of one nipple. “We have all night.”

Seifer smiled, “Yeah. I suppose we do.”


********


He didn’t want to leave. He’d only been away from Rinoa four days and it felt too soon to go back now.

Squall sighed as he laced up his boots, the glitter of his wedding ring catching his eye from his left hand. To his surprise he didn’t feel guilty at all about the betrayal of Rinoa, sleeping with someone else behind her back – he barely even cared anymore about what she thought or what happened. However, he did feel guilty about using Seifer as he had. After all, nothing could come of their one night of lust and Seifer deserved better treatment than that.

The door opened and Seifer smirked at him. Leaning against the frame, his arms crossed over his broad chest, he looked like that confident arrogant man that had haunted his dreams for years. “Running away again?”

“I suppose I am,” Squall sighed, straightening. “I don’t have much choice.”

Seifer was too proud a man to ask Squall to stay even if he wanted to. When Squall stood in front of him, barely inches away, he wanted to grab him and make him stay. “So, you ever gonna come back this way?” he asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

“I… don’t know, Seifer. I’ll try, let’s leave it at that,” the younger man offered. He couldn’t resist touching Seifer’s cheek one last time, the skin rough with stubble. Lifting himself on his toes, Squall paused for a moment before he kissed Seifer deeply.

Winding his arms around Squall’s waist, Seifer clung to him and kissed back, sliding his tongue into Squall’s mouth. One last taste, one last kiss to say goodbye forever. He wasn’t fooling himself – Seifer was sure Squall would never return and once he walked out of that door. So he slid his hands down over the curve of Squall’s ass, pressing their bodies together.

Too soon he had to pull away from Seifer, his heart pounding in his chest. Every fibre of his being was screaming at him not to look up into those haunting green eyes, that if he did he wouldn’t be able to leave. He ignored them, lifting his head to offer Seifer a quiet smile. “Thank you,” he whispered, before sliding past Seifer and heading for the stairs that would lead him down and out of the inn, and on the journey back to Rinoa, and Garden.

He heard the thump of a wall being punched behind him, Seifer’s anger getting the better of him for just a moment, and he sighed.


********


Balamb Garden had, somewhat fortunately, not blown up while Squall had been away. Though he was bombarded with questions the very second he walked back into the oppressive building, he noted that nothing seemed to have gone wrong in his absence.

Squall ignored everyone but his friends, motioning that he’d talk later. He was tired, and beginning to wonder whether he’d made more of a mistake in leaving, or coming back.

His quarters were quiet, fortunately, and Rinoa was elsewhere. After a long, hot shower he collapsed onto the pink couch – the one Rinoa had chosen, just like everything else in their rooms– and closed his eyes, knowing he wouldn’t have long to wait until she returned as soon as she heard he was back.

It took, in fact, only fifteen minutes after he’d sat down for her to appear, bursting through the door and waking him from his half doze.

“Where were you?” she demanded, slamming the door behind her and stamping her foot. Already the tears were welling up in her eyes, spilling down her cheeks. “Why didn’t you tell me? Or call?”

“I told you I was going away for a couple of days the morning I left Rin, if you didn’t hear me that’s your fault,” he sighed.

“I was so worried about you,” the dark haired girl pouted, clasping her hands behind her back, she didn’t try to close the gap between them despite clearly wanting to. She just stood there, rocking back and forth on her heels.

Squall sat up slowly, frowning to himself. Even though she was clearly upset he just didn’t care any more, and he was starting to wonder if he ever had. At least he didn’t care as much as he should, and that was the biggest problem. He wanted to hate her, he really did, but he simply felt sorry for her. “Rin,” he said, his voice breaking just a little. “I’m leaving.”

Even he wasn’t sure where the sudden decision had come from, and he wasn’t sure what he was going to do, he just knew that those days that he’d spent out of the shadow of garden and away from Rinoa had made him feel better than he had in years. He needed that again; if he continued as he was he wasn’t sure how much would be left of his sanity and himself by the end of the year.

Rinoa’s dark eyes widened, her fear and shock plain on her face. “You can’t mean that, Squall, I love you. You can’t leave me,” she said softly. Her tears slowed, surprisingly. Perhaps the shock was too much for her.

He stood slowly, taking one of Rinoa’s hands in his own. “You deserve someone who can love you like a princess. You need someone who can love you like a princess. I’m not that man, Rinoa,” he said, his voice cool and soft. Pressing a kiss to her forehead as one might when comforting a child, he smiled faintly. “I never was, but I hope you find him.”

“Don’t leave me, please?” the young woman asked softly, her wide eyes staring at him hopefully. He could see the fear, the confusion in her eyes and wondered if he’d ever looked like that when someone had left him.

“I have to. For both our sakes. I’ll contact you about a divorce.”

“Where will you go? Why are you doing this?” she shook her head. Squall had always been so cold and clinical about their relationship even though she’d tried so very, very hard to make him warm up and open up to her. But still, how could he do this? How could he leave like that? How could he be so… so cold?

“It’s just something I need, Rin. I don’t know where I’ll go, but I don’t care, as long as it isn’t Balamb. I need to get ready,” he said, dropping her hand.

When Squall pulled away from her, turning to head for the bedroom, Rinoa sobbed aloud and rushed from the room.

With a sigh, Squall packed as much as he could. The things he couldn’t live without were easy enough to narrow down and weren’t even enough to fill a suitcase when all was said and done. He supposed that should have been sad, but he couldn’t bring himself to care, the elation of his sudden freedom making his blood sing in his veins and his head swim. It didn’t even take twenty minutes to finish and hand over his command to his deputy, Quistis, and he couldn’t even feel sad at that.


********


Seifer thought that two months was plenty of time to forget someone. Even after two nights of the most intense sex of his life, two months was surely plenty of time to forget the way someone’s lips tasted, the way their skin felt, the way their voice trembled as they cried out with their release. However, although he would hate to admit it, he had been so very, very wrong.

Squall Leonhart, with the way he melted beneath Seifer’s fingertips and moaned like a whore despite the cold shield of ice that he usually kept around himself in an effort to prevent anyone – friend or foe – from getting in, was not a man one could easily forget.

He caught himself thinking of Squall often, much to his disappointment and disgust. He just couldn’t seem to help it though, he wanted to forget the dark haired, dark eyed man, to push him from his mind and forget that he’d ever even taken breath, let alone shared a bed with him. And yet, he just… couldn’t. Squall Leonhart was a part of him, one half of his soul as much as he hated to admit it, and he missed him. Wanted him. Loved him.

He was also mad at himself for being such an idiot. Falling in love with married men was not supposed to be on the agenda. Squall wouldn’t be coming back and he damn well knew it so why the heck was he letting himself moon over the leather clad ice freak?

Another customer sat down at the corner of the bar and Seifer turned to serve him, almost dropping the bottle he was holding.

The leather clad ice freak had slid into a stool and was watching him with the same cool intensity he always had.

Seifer recovered quickly, covering up his surprise by reaching for a glass, setting it on the bar in front of Squall. At least the dark haired man didn’t look quite as bad as he had the previous time he’d arrived, half asleep with exhaustion and looking paler than he’d ever seen him. If he hadn’t known better he’d have said Squall looked…. Happy.

“So, forget something, squirt?” he asked as he poured Squall a glass of whiskey.

“Mm, you,” Squall replied, a small smile beginning to curl his lips.

“Is that so?” Seifer arched one perfect golden eyebrow and half smirked, leaning on the bar. He had to fight the urge to smile, even though he was so glad to hear that word from Seifer’s lips. Suddenly everything felt okay and he hardly dared to breathe.

The pale, slender fingers of his left hand curling around the glass that Seifer had poured for him, Squall lifted the glass of whiskey slowly. He gave Seifer a moment to appreciate the change that had occurred, and nodded. “I forgot how much I needed you.”

It took him a moment to realise what had changed, and when he finally realised that the ring was gone from Squall’s left hand he almost grabbed the brunet by the wrist in an effort to bring it closer so he could see, just to be sure it was true. And it was, Squall’s wedding ring had gone. He grinned at the younger man, daring to touch the bare flesh and ignoring the strange looks he gained from the other patrons of the bar.

“You always needed me, squirt. About damn time you admitted it.”

“If you say so. Now what?” he asked, seeming suddenly a little unsure as though it had only just occurred to him that Seifer might not want him, though the older man knew Squall would have already considered every possible out come of the night, analysed it and attempted to define how he might feel about such an eventuality. He treated everything like a battle, like a duel because it was the way his mind worked. He had to treat it the same way as he would an up coming war because it was the only thing he could do that made sense to him.

Seifer wondered if Squall had considered sex in the stock room as one of the forthcoming events. He sincerely doubted it, so that was precisely what was going to happen.

He glanced over at his boss, already coming to relieve him for his break and grinned. “I’ll be back in twenty,” he said, leaving absolutely no room for argument with his tone though Squall winced at the tone of the statement.

“Seifer?”

With a crooked grin, Seifer motioned for Squall to follow him, his long legged gait still easy and unhurried. He wasn’t about to rush. After all, now Rinoa was out of the picture there was absolutely nothing to stop him. “I’m not gonna talk to you out here in front of all of these guys, Squall.”

“Ah,” Squall nodded, his curiosity appeased for the moment. As soon as they were in the small stock room though, the bare bulb overhead casting harsh shadows and too bright a light on them, Squall turned to the older man and tipped his head. A few chocolate strands of hair tumbled into his eyes, crossing the old scar and he looked… perfect. “Well?”

“Well, does it mean what I think it means?” he pulled Squall into his arms, toying with his hair as he stroked the errant locks back from those deep blue eyes.

Closing his eyes, letting Seifer pull him wherever he wanted him, Squall sighed. “Divorce came through this morning. I was on the next train to Deling, and I drove all the way here,” he paused, one eye peeking open as he half smiled. “Quit everything to do with my old life, job and all. …Felt like I needed a change.”

“Hyne’s balls, you don’t do things by half, do you squirt?” Seifer turned Squall, pressing him against the door as he flicked the catch and locked it.

Squall faltered for a moment, then turned his attention to Seifer once more as he realised just what the blond had planned for him. “We are not having sex in here.”

Seifer rolled his eyes, ducking his head to brush his lips against Squall’s. “You know damn well that I always get my way when it comes to fucking, Leonhart. Why not just give it up and let me,” he paused, grinding his hips against his lover’s and smirking. “Let me do what you know you want me to do?”

When the warm fingers ghosted under the edge of his tee-shirt, Squall’s protests were silenced. He’d forgotten in the two months since he’d seen Seifer just how deliciously hot that touch could be, and just how good it felt. Squall let Seifer unfasten his pants.

Only then did he kiss his lover, wrapping his arms around Seifer’s neck as he arched up against the strong hands of the taller man. “Almasy,” he breathed when the older man nuzzled against his lips, his gentle kisses and his tender touches almost enough to make Squall’s legs buckle underneath him and he didn’t want it to stop. He felt like a teenager again, like putty in Seifer’s hands.

And he liked it.

Seifer growled as he kissed Squall, pulling him back away from the door. “You’re staying with me, this time,” he stated, his voice just as commanding as it had been when he’d spoken to his boss. Squall nodded, his voice too weak to respond at that moment as Seifer guided him to a barrel nearby waiting to be connected to the taps in the bar itself.

He took his time over sliding the dark leather of Squall’s pants down over his hips, exposing the curve of his ass as Squall’s dark eyes watched him over his shoulder. Squall was already hard, but then so was Seifer, at just the thought of being able to take Squall just a few feet from where the bar patrons were supping on their usual Thursday night drinks.

“You gonna let me love you now, Squall?” Seifer’s voice was soft, and perhaps even a little vulnerable. He couldn’t help it, he felt vulnerable and part of him wanted Squall to see it, wanted Squall to see just how much he needed him and longed for him. Even if it meant letting Squall see that he was still fallible, that he wasn’t as strong as he wanted everyone to think.

Squall lowered his eyes for a moment, the gears grinding away in his head as he tried to work out what he thought was best to do but finally he looked up again, pulling a small bottle of lubricant from his pocket. “Only if you let me love you.”

Seifer laughed, taking the bottle from his lover and kissing him deeply. “Like I’d have it any other way?”

“Some first date this is,” Squall rolled his eyes. He shuddered when Seifer slid one finger, slick with cool liquid over and into his opening, pushing it deep. They were both as impatient as they’d always been, rushing for the physical release but it had been months. Long, lonely months. “But don’t let that stop you.”

Chuckling softly as he kissed Squall’s neck just below his ear, Seifer rocked the finger inside Squall. “I promise I’ll make that up to you. Maybe,” he grinned, sliding the fingers out and this time pushing two into Squall. Every little thrust of his fingers had Squall moaning softly, and every little thrust of his fingers had Squall bending over a little more until he was resting his elbows on the barrel, his pale hips arched and his legs spread as much as the pants would permit.

He trembled when Seifer withdrew his fingers. Squall’s eyes were almost closed, his breath coming in swift, soft gasps. This was the real Squall, this was his soul mate, the one who had melted under his touch whenever he could talk him out of those black leather pants and get him hard, the one who only came alive when he was fighting or fucking. But times had changed, as had they, and Seifer couldn’t wait to explore what those changes meant for Squall.

Even in the short amount of time since he’d last seen his lover, that morning when he’d walked out of the inn and – so he’d thought – out of his life forever, Squall had changed. And it was for the better, he was happier. Seifer swore, on all the blood they’d spilt and the scars they shared, that he would make sure Squall was never unhappy again. He would not let his lover down.

Squall whimpered when the fingers slid out of his body again, leaving him feeling so empty.

The last time he’d been with Seifer, he’d wondered whether it had been the wine or the company that had made his head spin. Now, as Seifer held him by the hip and slid oh so very slowly inside him, the thick length of his cock he knew for certain. It had been Seifer, that touch was more intoxicating than whiskey, so hot it almost burned.

“Gonna have to be quiet, Leonhart,” Seifer husked against his ear softly, his voice strained with the effort it was taking him to hold back.

All he could do was nod for a moment as Seifer inched deeper inside him. Somehow it felt even better than the last time they’d been together, without that thread of guilt that knowing he was being unfaithful had given him, without knowing that he was supposed to be somewhere else, with someone else. He didn’t want it to end now he didn’t want it to end. Not ever.

At the first thrust, Squall had to muffle his cry of lust against his hand. From there it was hopeless to even try to separate out the thrusts as Seifer pounded into him, every time at that perfect angle, every single rock of Seifer’s hips melting into one wave of pleasure.

His free hand slid down to his cock, wrapping his fingers around the hard arc as he stroked himself in tine with Seifer’s thrusts. Squall couldn’t think, could barely breathe when Seifer’s mouth sealed over the juncture of his neck and his shoulder, muffling moans and cries in an effort to prevent the people outside from knowing just what they were up to.

Of course they would all know anyway. Squall was sure of that and he just didn’t care. Everything felt so right, so real and it was how everything was supposed to be. Even the breathless husk of Seifer’s voice between those peaks of pleasure where he knew he couldn’t silence himself without biting Squall’s skin was perfect.

Then he came, biting his lip so hard he tasted blood, his release flooding over his fingers as his body tightened around Seifer’s cock.

Seifer was not far behind him. They’d spent their lives chasing each other and today would be no different. With the hot rush of Seifer’s release inside him he shivered and trembled, resting his head on the edge of the barrel. “Hyne, Almasy,” he whimpered as Seifer slumped on top of him.

“Hyne yourself, Leonhart. At least you don’t have to go back to work after that,” Seifer muttered. It took a while of silence for Seifer to find the strength to slide out of Squall and straighten again, helping Squall up and letting the younger man dress them both.

Squall clung to Seifer, his arms wrapped tightly around his waist when they were done. He could feel the thrum of his pulse pounding in his shoulder where Seifer had bit down on him but he ignored it, pulling his jacket to cover the reddened flesh that would surely bruise by morning. “Where am I going to go while you do that?” he asked softly, muffling his words against the rumpled tee-shirt that covered Seifer’s chest.

“You,” Seifer tipped Squall’s head up and pressed a kiss to his injured lips, a soft kiss that still made Squall wince inside at the touch to his damaged flesh. “Are going to take my room key, get your ass upstairs and wait for me. I get off in two hours.”

“Lemme guess, your shift finishes in an hour and a half?”

Seifer chuckled, pushing a key from his back pocket into Squall’s hand. “Get your ass upstairs, Leonhart. I’ll see you when my shift’s over and then we’ll talk.”


********


He found Squall asleep. He was stretched out on his front, one arm slung over a pillow and the sheets draped over his naked form.

In short, he looked like a dream come true. He looked like heaven all stretched out, pale skin turned to alabaster in the moonlight and his face peaceful, for perhaps the first time in his life. Seifer wanted to wake him so very badly but the bed looked entirely too tempting to resist. Instead, he peeled off his work clothes, kicked them into a pile of laundry waiting to be done, and crawled under the sheets with the younger man.

Squall stirred as soon as Seifer was curled up beside him, seeking the warmth of Seifer’s body. He murmured a sleepy apology though neither of them were aware of just what he was apologizing for.

“Just sleep,” Seifer ordered softly, kissing Squall’s hair as he pulled the covers around him. “We can talk tomorrow.”

Distantly, Squall realized just how much he enjoyed having someone to do that for him. Someone who didn’t rely upon him for every insignificant little thing. Someone he felt equal to. Someone who needed him as much as he needed them - a rival, an adversary instead of a princess to pamper. The kind of person who wouldn’t make him act out some parody of a part in a romance to which he couldn’t find the script.

He didn’t need a sorceress, or a knight’s role to play. He just needed… a soul mate.

With Seifer’s forehead resting against his own, his breath already falling into that sleepy rhythm, he realized that he’d known where that was all along.

Behind jade eyes and a fading scar. Behind Seifer’s brash exterior, and his smirk. Behind the tanned skin and too easy grin.

Suddenly, Squall felt like he’d come home at last.

And he was never going to leave again.

an: I apologise for not updating hurt as I wanted to wait until it was all on this site. However, the fic is finished.